While the tumult above grew increasingly bloody and chaotic with the charge of Torrens and Octavius and the arrival of Clotho's antlions and myrmidons, the Master had remained in the lower tunnels continuing to struggle using his magic to counter the dwarven geomancers cowering somewhere in a ritual chamber. Powerful a warlock as he was, he was only just able to hold them at bay by an inch and stymie their efforts to bring a hundred tons of rock down upon the heads of their attackers. This mental battle manifested itself as tendrils of magic extended everywhere through the very earth itself, porbing and manipulating it while tangling and fighting with one another.

Of course, that was only until Emily got herself involved in the tangle by seizing control of the earth from right below both sides. What followed was bewilderment and confusion as both the Keeper and the dwarves tried to determine if this was friend or foe. While the Master wasn't sure exactly who was responsible, he fortunately made the correct assumption that this was the work of one of his allies. He seized the brief window of opportunity that was afforded when the geomancers panicked and dropped their defenses. Tracing their magic back to their physical location, he used his own unholy powers to grasp at their souls from afar and rip with all his might. The dwarves' tenuous hold over the earth instantly vanished, leaving the Master with a strong suspicion that he had rendered those spellcasters either dead or as mindless husks. Still, he wasn't take any risks. Seeing as he already had penetrated the earth with his magic, he collapsed the entire ritual chamber that the geologists had been working within.

Hearing the satisfying rumble of the collapse along with the sounds of battle echoing through the tunnels to the dwarven city above, the somewhat fatigued Keeper managed to teleport into the dwarven hall. The outpost was built into a large and airy natural cavern, a little village of of homes and workshops beneath a sky of pure rock. Atop the roofs of one of these subterranean abodes there was a flash of fire that heralded the Master's arrival.

Torrens especially, but also Octavius and the others had succeeded in routing the first ranks of dwarven spearmen. While more moves forward to fill in the gap and a platoon or two of axe throwers moved in behind the rear spearwalls, the Master lazily conjured a few massive fireballs and hurled them into the dense formations. That would hopefully open up some holes and create an opening for the Horde to exploit. Between gigantic fireballs, he also attempted to smite down the cowardly soldiers that were fleeing. Thinner lances of pure flame shot out to snipe individual stragglers, with the Master intentionally shooting one or two towards Torrens in a rare act of kindness.

While he would have been content to utterly break the mass of dwarves holding back the Horde coming up the staircase from below, the Master simultaneously noticed many things: first and foremost, Clotho had managed to injure herself badly. Secondly, there was some sort of...creature with a sword, riding a wolf and hacking down dwarves. It seemed to be on his side so the Master did not try to kill it, but he taken aback. Thirdly, a steady stream of the weak, young, and old were running through the dark cavern towards a few select passages that most likely were secret escape routes to the surface or places to hide or make a last stand. Either case was bad; those dwarves would need to be stopped.

And then of course, there was still the manner of finding the stash alchemical explosives that they had come to steal in the first place. Feeling far too overwhelmed to handle all of these things at once, the Master could only hope that his followers would prove themselves more competent here and now than they had during Athinar's attack on that last village...